


Shadow

by Sphenimersus



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Hurt Dean, M/M, Stanford Era, Suicide Attempt, past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 20:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5599060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sphenimersus/pseuds/Sphenimersus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam left. Dean cries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Years everyone! This has been incomplete for some time in my files, and I finally had some muse to finish it. So, here you go!
> 
> Title from the song “Shadow” by Sam Tsui.
> 
> Enjoy reading!

“If you walk out that door, don’t you ever come back!” John shouts at his youngest son.

Dean stands behind the bathroom door, spying on his brother and father. He’s terrified of what Sam would say. _Is he going to leave me?_ He thinks. He finds his answer when his brother speaks.

“Yeah! Fine! I’ll leave. Don’t call me for anything!” Sam turns and goes to grab Dean. He drags him out of the motel. Leaving the door open, Sam looks at his brother straight in the eyes, “Dean - come with me. I can go to Stanford and you can look for a job around there.”

Staring at his younger brother’s eyes, Dean shakes his head. “I can’t leave Dad alone, Sammy,” he says, barely above a whisper.

Sam hardens his face, “You’re going to choose Dad over me?”

“I-I l-lo-ove you, Sam.” Dean desperately says, eyes tearing up. “Don’t leave.”

Sam refuses, “No. I can’t Dean. I’m leaving now. I hope you’ll be happy with Dad. Good bye.” He walks out into the night, catching a cab.

Dean watches his brother’s back leaving him behind. His brother already has a sack of his belongings with him. He knew it. Sam was going to leave him, regardless if he said ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ He wasn’t enough for Sam to stay. It makes Dean’s tears want to fall. To cry until his eyes have none left to shed. He stops himself from doing so and returns inside the motel.

“Are you leaving too?” John grunts from behind the bottle in his hand.

Dean shakes his head, “No. I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me, Dad. I’m gonna go to bed now.” His dad acknowledges his statement and returns to nursing his beer. Dean looks around the motel finally noticing that everything that once belonged to Sam was gone. _When did that happen?_ He doesn’t bother changing his clothes, curling up on to the bed. He clutches the amulet around his neck, thinking of ripping it off to get rid of the last item that Sam had touched. As soon as he takes it off, he still feels as though his brother is behind him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Taking back the necklace, he holds it tighter than anything he’s ever held before.

* * *

For the next few weeks, Dean is listless. John has noticed but doesn’t say anything. It’s when they’re on a vampire hunt when Dean thinks that Sam has his back. But no one’s there. He crashes on to the ground. He’s lucky he managed to make the vampire topple at the same time. He quickly decapitated the vampire’s head before he gets bitten.

When they’re done cleaning, John scolds his son, “Dean! What the fuck were you thinking about?! That almost cost you life!”

Dean looks down to his toes. He thinks about telling his dad about how he thought Sam was there but decides against it. “Sorry, Sir.”

“Just watch your back next time,” John replies gruffly.

* * *

One year later later, Dean finds all the pictures of Sam hidden at the bottom of his duffle. There’s not much, but the few he has are special. He immediately shoves them back in, but even with them out of sight, he still feels as though Sam is still staring at him, boring holes through his soul. _Why?_ He wonders despairingly. _Why does his memory still haunt me? Why Sam? Why do you still seem to be with me when I know you’ll never be with me again? It’s been a year._

Dean looks up from his spot from the ground, as if he were expecting an answer from the air. All he sees is his father packing the bags. He tosses his head side-to-side. He knows he should give up on Sam. Nothing will bring him back. Nothing will bring back his brother into the family business. He knows that his Dad figured that the loss of Sam only affected him the first few weeks. But that isn’t true. Dean just got better at hiding the pain. At detaching from his feelings to help everyone from those monsters that terrorize them. He’s built walls that he has ensured no one will be able to knock down. No one will ever get to his heart like Sam had.

Standing up, Dean tosses his bag into the Impala. He’s following his dad for the night to the next town. There’s already another job. When he cranks up the radio, he looks in the rearview mirror, hoping to hear a complaint from the passenger. It hits him again as soon as he notices that there is no passenger. It feels like his heart contorts in pain. He fights the tears until his resolve wavers. He weeps quietly by himself throughout the night.

* * *

It’s another year before Dean finds another thing that once belonged to Sam. Now, John has let Dean hunt by himself. He uses the time to drown himself in his suffering. It’s almost funny how when he’s hurting the most, he finds something that makes it worst. Chuckling at the thought, he screams at the top of his lungs. He thrashes around. Throwing every piece of clothing he has across the room. Grabbing pillows and chucking them at the wall. He wants to punch the motel room walls, but he know the damage wouldn’t be something his dad would be happy with.

Dean settles with wallowing in his despair. Falling on to the ground with a tear-streaked face. He feels so empty now. He isn’t satisfied, but then again, he never felt satisfied before unless he was with Sam. Since the last ‘Sam left’ anniversary, Dean cries himself to sleep again.

* * *

One more year, and Dean knows that he can’t keep going the way he is. He knows he’ll follow his father in the path of an alcoholic. He cuts himself from drinks except in bars where he knows the bartender will keep him from getting too drunk. He promises to never drink until he passes out. He attempts to stop the exercise he’s been doing. The cutting on his thighs with the knives he sharpens everyday. He knows he won’t be able to actually _stop_ , but he tries to keep it at a minimum. Not that it actually works.

Two months, and Dean finds himself alone again. John had left for a hunt and hadn’t returned yet. Dean thinks that his dad had finally found out that his eldest son is useless. He breaks his promise and buys three packs of beer. He downs three bottles within the hour. Another five bottles within the next hour. He drinks until his mind is hazy, and he slips back into his habit of grabbing the knife underneath the bed’s pillow. Stumbling into the bathroom, he sits on the closed toilet seat. He grabs his phone and opens it to his contacts. _Sam Winchester._ He stares at the number longingly, wishing he could speak with his little brother. He cuts into his thigh slowly, savoring the pain. Crying out because of the pain - not because of the cut but rather because he wants his brother back. He faints with his boxers on in the restroom while he holds the knife in his hand. His last word before he passes out is, “Sammy.”

* * *

Dean wakes up in a hospital bed, staring at the white ceiling. Shifting around, he looks to his side and sees a bag of blood transfusion. He wonders idly, _How did I get here?_ Attempting to sit up, he faintly sees a figure in the corner of the room. “Dad?” He calls out hoarsely. Blinking a few times, he realizes it’s the shadow of the doctor that’s checking up on him. He turns his head, facing the doctor, “Where am I?”

“Stanford Health Care. I’m Doctor Terence Kelly,” the doctor states. “You’ve been asleep for nearly three days, Mr. Winchester. The owner of a small time motel found you and called the ambulance. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“How’d I get here?” Dean asks.

Doctor Kelly replies, “You were unconscious and the contact that was open on your screen was ‘Sam Winchester.’ After a bit of looking, the police in the area managed to get in contact with your brother. He asked for you to be transferred here, so he could check up on you.”

Dean nods. “Can I leave?”

“Not yet,” Kelly answers immediately. “You haven’t gotten the amount of blood you should need in your system.”

“But my car,” Dean protests weakly.

“I got it for you,” a voice rumbles as a person enters the room. It’s Sam.

Dean automatically corrects, “ _Her._ You got _her_. She’s a lady. You gotta treat her like one.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam glares at his brother. Actually has the nerve to _glare._ “Yeah. ‘Treat her like a lady.’” Sam repeats. “So what have you been doing for the past three years? Where’s Dad?”

 _Three years, two months, one week, and two days._ Dean thinks immediately. _Actually, if I’ve been unconscious for three days, then it should be five days._ Dean tenses at his younger brother’s tone. He turns to face the windows, staying quiet. Refusing to say a word.

“Did Dad leave?” Sam continues coldly. “He’s an asshole, so of course he’d just up and leave, abandoning his kids.”

“Don’t speak about Dad like that,” Dean scowls, turning back to look his brother in the eye. He knows that there’s pain evident in his eyes, but someone who hasn’t spoken to him in about three years shouldn’t be able to tell. “If you’re going to act like that, why the fuck did you have me get transferred here?” _I’m a useless piece of shit that Dad didn’t need anymore. It’s my fault anyways._

Sam growls, “You lost a ton of blood, they won’t tell me why, but I’m guessing it’s because of a hunt Dad dragged you out on. And I transferred you here because you’re my _brother_ , Dean. I’d do anything for you like how you’d do anything for me.” _Except leave Dad,_ is left in the air, but they both hear the silent words.

Dean crawls off the bed, ignoring the doctor’s warnings. He finds his clothes on the chair. He shoves them out. “Get out. I’m changing. I don’t care what you all say.” He purposely falls against Sam, taking out the keys to his Baby out of Sam’s pockets. Dean’s lucky that Sam has gotten rusty. If not, he’d have gotten caught taking the keys and Sam would have forced him to stay. The two other men let Dean change in peace.

As soon as they’re out of the room, Dean slips on his jeans and AC/DC shirt quickly. At least they chose a good outfit. Sneaking one last glance at the door, Dean grabs the desk in the corner of the room and blocks the door from swinging in. He opens the window and looks down. He’s on the second floor. Dean sighs in relief. Opening the window, Dean fits himself through it. He jumps down and winces at the impact. He looks around and searches for his Baby. It’s easy to find her in the mass of modern cars. He runs as quickly as he can to her. He starts her up and listens to her rumble. He spots Sam running out the hospital door. Revving up her engine, he presses the pedal. He’s out of the lot within a few minutes.

When Sam notices the keys in his pockets were missing, he tries to enter the hospital room. It's blocked. “ _Fuck_ ,” he curses, which earns him some reprimanding stares from the elderly people in the hospital.

He hurries to exit the building but by the time he does, the Impala was gone. “Dammit Dean!” He screams, “Do you hate me that much?!”

By coincidence, or perhaps fate, a text causes his phone to ring. Looking down, he sees a message from Dean, _“I love you, Sammy. Too much. Goodbye…”_

Sam immediate dials back, _This is Dean’s other, other cell, so you must know what to do._

Back on the road, Dean drives for a full day, only stopping for gas whenever necessary. He arrives at the town of Nowhere in Oklahoma, which he faintly wonders, _Why the fuck is there a town called Nowhere?_

He decides to pass on entering a motel and simply stays in his Baby. He cuddles into the seat, sobbing endlessly. _Why, Sammy? Why?_

Dean sleeps until noon and when he wakes, he takes out the phone that he turned off. He contemplates on whether or not he should turn it off. Shaking his head, he tosses the phone onto the floor. Driving around the town, he finds a phone store and gets the cheapest one, changing his number and everything. He texts his dad the new number, explaining that he dropped it on a hunt.

Entering a public restroom, he looks at himself in the mirror, _I look like shit_. Turning on the sink, he uses his hand to splash his face with water. He firmly decides, _I won’t do it anymore. I can’t let Sammy find out. I have to hide all my shit and make sure no one will find out._ He resolves to get his act together and find dad himself.

* * *

A year passes since Dean’s last ‘visit’ with Sam.

Opening his eyes, Sam listens carefully in the quiet night. It’s barely audible, but it sounded like a window was opening. _A thief?_ Sam gets up from his bed, leaving to search his apartment for the intruder. He glances to the side and sees an open window. He stops and hears footsteps on the floor. Moving toward the kitchen, Sam waits for the intruder. The supposed thief enters Sam’s line of sight and Sam takes a hold at the man’s shoulder. The man retaliates Sam’s attack and attempts to strike out at him. The exchange moves with each other for some time until Sam is knocked down by the man, who then pins him to the floor. A hand on his neck and another on his wrist.

“Whoa, easy tiger,” the man’s voice reverberates in the otherwise silent room.

Sam blinks after taking in a harsh breath, “Dean?” _Why’d you come back?_

Laughing at the question, the man nods.

“You scared the crap out of me!”

 _Yeah, and I scare the crap out of myself just coming here._ Dean chuckles again, “That’s ‘cause you’re out of practice.”

Glaring at his elder brother, Sam grabs Dean’s wrist with his free hand, violently kicking his heel into Dean’s open back. He then flips him over, pinning Dean to the floor. He looks into Dean’s eyes and sees nothing of the pain from the past. _What happened to him?_

“Or not,” Dean continues. His free hand pats Sam’s hand that’s holding him down, “Get off of me.” _I don’t want to remember your touch._

Rolling off the ground, he helps Dean up, “What the hell are you doing here?” _Didn’t you leave?_

Dean lies with a half serious face, “Well, I was looking for beer.” _Or rather, looking for you._

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sam growls, giving a harsher tone to his voice.

Dean shrugs, “Okay. All right. We gotta talk.” _About a lot, but only about Dad today. I can’t tell you about me._


End file.
